


The Grievances of Men

by Darian_MacGyver



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, First Time, M/M, Major Character Injury, Not Beta Read, Original Character Death(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Melitele for Grammarly, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing Clothes, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darian_MacGyver/pseuds/Darian_MacGyver
Summary: Just a very generic Witcher fic with porn, violence and the obligatory bathing scene (not necessarily in that order). The alternate title was The Petty Squabbles of Men but I liked this one better. And since I don’t like Yennefer all that much my fics always take place earlier in the first season. So younger Jaskier. Yay.(I fixed few grammatical mistakes I spotted but if you see more let me know please)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 227





	The Grievances of Men

**Author's Note:**

> I did try to finish my other stories. Really. I did a pinky swear, but then this suddenly appeared in my head and I just had to write it down before doing anything else.

This was surely the worst and at the same time the sweetest torture anyone has ever suffered through and yet lived to tell the tale. The sight most certainly deserved to be immortalized in a song or two...or hundred.

The thought went through Jaskier’s mind as he once again glanced covertly over at Geralt, who has currently stripped to the waist about twenty feet away from him, taking a rather cold sponge bath in a frigid stream. It was a full moon tonight with a clear star-filled night sky that reflected upon the water so even his ordinary human eyes could see almost all he wanted them to.

And there was plenty to see.

His friend’s wide unclothed back was turned towards the bard, the scared alabaster white skin almost shimmered in the moonlight and rippled across his shoulder muscles with each precise movement as he washed down the blood from his hands and muscular forearms that were probably wider than Jaskier’s tights.

Not that he had a chance to measure it for himself but maybe one day… well if wishes were horses he wouldn’t have to walk anywhere for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, since it wasn’t so he left the impossible daydreams for now and went back to the tantalizing view that was freely offered to him as a consolation prize.

It was like watching a hard marble sculpture of an ancient God-Hunter turn to live. Every muscle and vein carefully etched by the greatest artist ever born into the stone for all of the eternity to be admired by the grateful masses. His body a pure perfection of male beauty at its very peak, the many marks that were left on it over the years spent as a professional monster hunter for hire only accented it more and did not take anything away from it.

Anything but Jaskier’s breath, at the sight of it.

His fingers were carefully strumming his lute concentrating not to miss a single note so his travel companion would not look in his direction wondering what made him stop so suddenly mid practicing his newest song, while his eyes wandered over the large planes of the Witcher’s wide shoulders, he wished to touch them and digging his nails into them as his breath was fucked out of him while he laid under the towering man.

He could feel himself stirring from the sight and the imagined touch alone but tried to suppress it in case Geralt finished rinsing off the deer’s blood he had hunted and butchered down for their dinner from his hands sooner than expected.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen Geralt partially disrobed.

Far from it.

They have been traveling together for almost three years now and while following him on the Path had offered many unexpected often unpleasant and smelly surprises the lack of privacy most definitively wasn’t one of them. They have both seen each other’s bodies as naked as the day they were born on multiple occasions and Jaskier's heart still started to beat a little faster whenever it happened.

He remembered the first time such an opportunity occurred like it was yesterday. The first time he had seen all of Geralt’s beautiful body and even the Selkie Maw’s guts and smell of its viscera didn’t stop him from secretly salivating.

It was like slowly unwrapping a present as he helped the Witcher to undress from the blood crusted armor and wash away all the gore and blood to leave clean naked skin in its wake that smelled of bath salts and herbs he had put into the water to help battle with the dead monster’s stench. What was even more surprising was that other man allowed him to massage his strained back and leg muscles and if Jaskier paid more attention to the certain…assets then who could blame him in such a situation. He had actually for him shown an unprecedented amount of restraining that had not been exceeded until today.

He had trouble to focus the entire time he was helping the older man and was skipping from topic to topic in the conversation to cover how his mind wanted to just shut down and blindly stare at the perfect specimen in front of him and let his hands wander to where they had no place to wander.

Over the time he had grown accustomed enough to it so he could hold more or less coherent conversation about his newest songs mostly while Geralt bathed inside the range of his sight.

They have been on the road for a while now.

After Geralt had finished an easy contract to hunt down some Drowners that were bothering several smaller villages on the cost they haven’t found any other work. It was not unusual at this time of the year since the summer was most definitely over and even autumn was slowly nearing to its end to be replaced by several months of deadly freeze and snow.

Normally they would have parted their ways much sooner than this with Jaskier going to the south to winter at some wealthy patrons or more likely patroness court to entertain the bored nobles until the snows would start to thaw again but not this year.

This year Geralt had reluctantly asked him to stay and accompany him to a secret headquarters of the Witcher’s that was hidden inside an ancient keep somewhere along the northern Blue mountain region.

Thus far on the journey there he had been quiet, if somewhat more frigid because of the colder weather even more so frosty especially in the mornings than usual.  
It seemed that even the monsters had more sense than the Witchers and preferred the much warmer climates.

Jaskier also who preferred to keep himself as clean and bathed as often as possible rather wiped himself with a rag rinsed in a heated up container of warm water than to brave the same cold stream of water his friend was currently washing himself in. And really, it was very improper to have such lustful thoughts about a man suffering in nature’s elements so...

"Jaskier!"

"Yes?" He jumped, his face flushing red, and he tried not to squeak as he spoke at the sudden unexpected attention to his person.

"Stop playing that dammed lute of yours and be quiet for a moment!"

Normally the bard would be insulted at such command but something in Geralt’s voice made him stay quiet and follow his demand without further ado. The bard put his lute back into its protective waterproof case and stood up, taking stock of the small clearing near the stream where they had made camp previously in the afternoon.

He was only able to hear Roach munching on some dried grass in her reach, the trickle of water through the stream but no movement in the nearby bushes. His human hearing was probably too weak to register whatever tread was coming towards them just yet.

Geralt has already returned and shrugged his black tunic back he had left next to the fire to dry after quickly washing it before going to wash his body on and reached for his Steel sword that was lying in its scabbard on his bedroll next to their improvised fire-pit made mostly out of large stones.

An arrow suddenly whipped only inches away from the bard's face and hit the tree a few steps behind him. He quickly ducked low toward the ground as another arrow flew by.

"Jaskier hide! Come here!" The Witcher hissed towards him urgently.

The bard saw him taking cover behind a tree stump near their sleeping bedrolls and cautiously crept over to join him, keeping as close to the ground as he could.

"Why would someone shoot at us do you thing a hunter could mistake us moving around for a boar or something?” He asked, keeping his voice low.

Geralt snorted half amused half bitter even as something caught his eye.  
"I don't think so."

He took out his dagger hidden inside his right boot and aimed it towards the darkness from where the arrows had continued coming. They heard a half-strangled gurgling shout followed by the thud of a dead body hitting the hard ground and then silence.

The Witcher crept out from behind the stump, and bard hesitantly followed him keeping his head still low as they slowly made their way through the dense cover of shrubs at the edge of the clearing.

"There is one more bandit left.” Geralt said quietly when they found the dead man with the Witcher’s dagger still sticking from his throat.

The blood that had spilled from his severed artery all over the surrounding foliage had already started to cool down and congeal. Geralt took hold of the handle of his dagger and pulled it out of the wound with disgusting slide and slurp of wet flesh upon the steel before whipping the blood from its blade on the dead man’s clothes and putting it now clean back into its hidden sheath inside his leather boot.

Jaskier stayed back several feet, not willing to go closer to the corpse-like it would jump back to life and attack them again any moment. He was about to ask Geralt if he was able to hear the other bandit had run away when he was suddenly grabbed from behind, choking as an arm wrapped around his neck and forced the air out of his lungs.

Whoever was holding him was at first glance much larger than he was and strong, too almost unnaturally so with just one hand while the other held a long sharp knife to his vulnerable unprotected throat. The bard started to immediately struggle even as he gasped for air his lungs were starved of but stopped almost instantly as he felt cool steel against his skin dig deeper and sliced through his skin shallowly like it was butter causing a trickle of blood run down to be soaked into the silk material of his collar.

The Witcher turned abruptly, lifting his sword.

"Drop it! Drop that fucking sword or I'll cut his throat!" said loudly the voice in Jaskier’s ear.

Geralt continued to advance toward them, his eyes seemed to almost glow like hot yellow embers as they stared angrily at Jaskier’s captor. The bard thought to call out to the Witcher, to tell him not to do it, that he was probably dead anyway; without his weapon, Geralt might be soon too but the knife digging so close to his main artery prevented him from doing so.

The man forcibly dragged him back toward the stream Jaskier admired Geralt bathing not even half an hour ago, the blade pressed against his neck cutting him some more as he felt more fresh blood trickling down his skin.

Jaskier tried not to whimper as he felt new fresh cuts being made into his vulnerable flesh.

“Drop it or I will slice him from ear to ear like a pig for slaughter!” The man shouted with increasing desperation and fear quivering his voice at the still advancing monster hunter that until now ignored his demands.  
The bandit was getting desperate realizing he was surely facing a more trained and much deadlier opponent than himself and his brows were covered in a cold sweat, eyes wide open and looking for a way out of the situation. Geralt stopped as more bard’s fresh blood started to soak his clothes around the neckline, his demeanor changing, or at least appearing to.

“Let him go and I will put my sword down, there is no need to do anything rash.” He tried to reason with the thief.

“No way, you would kill me as soon as I did that. Drop the sword you fucking mutant or I swear to Melitele’s left tit that I will kill him this very moment and you will watch it!”

Geralt growled out of anger but lowered slowly his sword to the ground and placed it onto the grass at his feet.

“Kick it away so far you will not be able to reach it. Do it!”

As the Witcher did just that the bandit moved the knife away from Jaskier’s throat, not far away, barely a few inches, but just enough. It proved to be the last and very fatal mistake of his miserable short life as the small throwing dagger that previously already killed the second bandit Geralt had retrieved from his boot flew through the air and landed right between the other man’s eyes with a loud thud. The force of it jerked the man’s head backward and would probably break his neck and killed him anyway, even if it currently wasn’t buried to the hilt inside his brain matter.

The handle of it was still slightly vibrating as the now-deceased man shuddered in a death spasm and released the content of his bowls all at once and fell backwards pulling Jaskier with him as they both fell into the icy stream with a loud splash.

“Jaskier!” Geralt beloved loudly and was at his side almost immediately and pulled him away from the dead man’s tight embrace before the weight of the corpse could pull him below the surface of the water and drown him. The dead man’s grip was still so strong the body got dragged out of the water with the soaked bard also.

“Did he hurt you further? I can’t smell your blood over his. Are you hurt?”

He did not, but he was soaked, and he was suddenly so cold he could barely splutter an answer.

"N..n..no j...just ...cuts from ...bef ..fore."

The bard touched the largest cut underneath his chin with his shaking fingers. The fingertips came away stained slightly red as he removed them to look at. It was still bleeding sluggishly as his unpropitious bath removed the half congealed blood that had slowly started to seal the wounds, but not much. No major blood vessels were severed or he would have bled to death long before now no matter how desperately he would keep the pressure on the wound.

“It’s ....just a few ....scratches.”

Geralt grabbed his chin into his large warm hand and lifted the bards head carefully further up so he could check for himself and nodded in agreement at the previous assessment of the injuries. Jaskier could not help himself and tried to press himself with his cheek towards the warmth of the older man’s skin which was much warmer than a normal human would be due to is mutations.

"Come on let's get you to the fire. You need to warm up quickly.”

With Geralt’s arm wrapped around his shaking shoulders they quickly returned to the center of their campsite where the fire was crackling merrily and Jaskier all but collapsed on his knees as close to it as possible.

The Witcher fetched some kind of small potion bottle and a piece of fresh linen bandages from Roach’s saddlebags who seemed entirely uninterested in the tonight’s unexpected excitements and after she initially runs away returned to munch on her grass dinner.

Geralt knelt on the ground next to him and uncorked the flask with his teeth before spitting the cork unceremoniously on the ground between their knees. The liquid soaked linen stung as it touched his fresh wounds and the bard hissed loudly and flinched at the unexpected burn of it.

“Hop....hope...this is not one of your po...potions since I recall the rather explicit explanation of consequences if they got anywhere near my ordina....ry weak human physique.”

“Most of them would melt your skin to the bone by now. It’s just basic antiseptic.”

Another shudder went through his half-frozen body. He tried to rub his hands around himself but his half-frozen fingers weren’t cooperating very well and all he managed to was squeeze some water out of his now surely ruined clothes onto dirt and water the grass below their feet.

“You need to get out of those wet clothes.”

Jaskier looked up into those amber-colored, glowing cat eyes and blinked dumbly before chastising himself mentally at the picture that sentence evoked.

“You will never be able to warm up still wearing them they are completely soaked through.”

With those words he had re-corked the bottle and went back to their belongings before returning with one of his own large thick black tunics that could probably serve to most people as a moderately long dress if they used a belt to tie it in the middle.

The bard was practically freezing and even extremely miserable as he was, his eyes still followed the Witcher as he moved around their camp-site with sure and precise movements.

How did the man could remain so calm and unmoved in situations like these was an utter mystery? Jaskier was shaking, and it was not only from the cold. But even coming to a hair's-breadth away from death, apparently was not enough to staunch his baser thoughts, as his eyes were drawn to the muscle in Geralt’s back and thighs as he bent over a saddlebag. Fortunately the icy water, however, had worked marvelously well to dampen his body's response. He quickly averted his eyes as the monster hunter returned and approached him holding the dry clothes.

“Here, this should keep you warm enough. Take those wet things off." He said, holding out his spare higher quality tunic that he usually used only when they were about to enter some larger and more prominent city.

The bard balked mentally at the gruff command, even as he untied his belt with his stiffened cold fingers and started to drop the pieces of his rather expensive wardrobe onto a ground where they were immediately covered in dust and gravel that stuck to the wet silk-like flies to a cows dunk.

He felt like he was completely naked. The only piece of clothing currently covering him was his rather soaked and now basically see-through white linen small clothes. It was not as if they had never seen each other unclothed, but this was somehow different. Perhaps sensing his sudden unease, the Witcher moved behind him, holding the tunic bunched up and ready to be pulled over the bards head with minimal fuss.

Jaskier drew a deep breath to reinforce himself and struggled out of the last piece of water-soaked garment standing with his back towards the other man completely naked. Oh how the fate must have been laughing at him surely punishing him for ogling partially disrobed Geralt earlier this evening. And now it was him completely naked, only a few feet away from his fully clothed friend feeling like he would rather fall through the ground.

The tunic was without further ado dragged down his head over his wet hair and his chest and ribs, and Geralt rubbed his shoulders through the cloth for a few moments. The bard shuddered at the strong embrace, but fortunately the Witcher seemed to believe his reaction was from the cold rather than his touch.

Geralt then walked away for a moment and spread both of their bedrolls for him near the fire next to him. Jaskier crawled over to them so he would be close to the flames so possible without actually setting himself on fire, still shivering violently and feeling strangely vulnerable with only one piece of clothing between him and complete nudity. He curled his knees under himself to cover his modesty as much as to cover all of his chilled skin with the warm thick woolen fabric. Geralt turned and studied him for a moment before retrieving another small cloth from his saddlebag. He tossed it to the bard as he began to put finishing touches on their dinner.

"Dry your hair and you'll warm up more quickly," He called over his shoulder seemingly not paying him further attention.

He caught the cloth gratefully and began rubbing his wet hair. It was considerably less damp a few minutes later when the Witcher handed him a wooden bowl filled with hot venison stew and a carved-out wooden spoon sticking out of it.

Jaskier took the bowl but put it down next to him on the ground and quickly tried to dry his hair some more with the larger piece of linen cloth they both used as a towel when they bathed. Geralt took the kettle with the stew off the fire and put another one this time filled with freshwater he had collected upstream from the dead body to heat up to make probably some herbal tea before finally sitting down next to Jaskier with his separate portion of the dinner. They ate in silence for a few moments. The Witcher finally looked up after a time, his eyes meeting with Jaskier’s

“I am sorry I didn’t notice them sooner. I couldn’t hear nor smell them for some reason.”

The bard looked at his friend and for the first time realized just how tense his shoulders were. So not so untouched by tonight’s events after all as he first through. For some reason that helped to calm Jaskier’s frayed nerves considerably.

“Not your fault maybe they just weren’t downwind?”

“They were. They shouldn’t be able to get so close to you with me here.”

Jaskier put his hand on Geralt’s much larger shoulder trying to console his friend and show him that he was not to blame for anything that happened tonight.

“You saved me, that’s all that truly matters in the end. Thank you.”

“It was my fault you got almost killed he would have sliced your throat if I missed him with that dagger thrown.”

“I knew you wouldn’t miss. If you weren’t sure you wouldn’t miss me completely you wouldn’t have thrown the blade in the first place.”

The Witcher blinked in surprise at the utter confidence and determination in his voice. Like it had never occurred to him that the bard wouldn’t doubt his fighting ability to save him at all.

"I knew you wouldn’t miscalculate that throw.” He repeated, and Geralt almost smiled for a moment, reading more in Jaskier’s eyes than he had spoken aloud. The intensity was too much, and the bard dropped his eyes.

“What are we going to do about... them?"

Jaskier tried to change the topic and gestured toward the bang of the large stream where the dead man still lay and then towards the general direction of the other corpse still hidden in the forest. Geralt frowned his previous almost melancholy mood darkening into a more predatory one.

“I will take care of it. I need to check them for clues." He said, brushing his hands on the grass around their bedrolls as he finished his supper.

Jaskier started to rise, frowning and flinching slightly in pain as he felt soreness where he had taken the blow to his back as they fell into the cold water and banged himself on the ribcage of the man that tried to kill him.

“You. Stay here. Make tea when the hot water is ready. Warm yourself up. You will slow me down if you get sick." Gerald growled and then said pointedly.

He opened his mouth to protest but closed it again without speaking anything since the Witcher’s expression said clearly that he would take no further argument from him. And all his protest would be futile. He nodded, and Geralt left the clearing probably to check the other body. Which he returned, with towed over his shoulder soon afterward.

Jaskier watched as Gerald dragged both corpses of the men that attacked them to one place further away from the water and their campsite alike and started to go through the dead men’s pockets before inspecting and removing something that they were both wearing around their necks.

Finally satisfied the Witcher removed his dagger from the head of the fresher corpse and started to pile some branches and straw on them both. The bard watched with utter fascination as it was all lit up with a simple gesture of the Witcher’s fingers. After only a few minutes there was nothing but a smoldering pile of ashes and few large fragments of bones left.

The bard sat quietly as he watched the improvised funeral pyre to burn, waiting as the water heated. It was taking forever without the aid of magic. He left the fire's warmth for just a moment to scramble for cups and a bag of dried chamomile in the saddlebags, but even in that brief amount of time the chill seemed to fully return. He shivered as he sat again, tucking the cloak around him as he fixed the tea. He felt warmer as he drank, yet moments later, he was cold again. He shifted as close to the fire as he could sit without actually burning himself, slipped his hands inside the cloak and tried to think warm thoughts.

Despite his chill, he must have drifted off, for he started when Geralt returned to the camp, grumbling and soot-covered. Jaskier watched as he went to the stream second time tonight for a rinse and quickly washed before returning to where the bard sat with a blanket draped around his shoulders.

“Did you find anything interesting?”

Geralt pulled something out of his pocket. It turned out to be two silver medallions with some kind of runes etched into it, very generously looking filled almost to bursting coin purse and a crinkled rolled-up piece of parchment.

“These were no ordinary thieves. They were hired mercenaries.”

“Who would hire just two mercenaries to kill a Witcher?”

“They didn’t.”

Geralt looked at the bard half amused half annoyed and gave him the parchment to read it himself in the light of the fire. As his eyes skipped over the short but very explanatory written message on it he groaned out loud and put his face into his hands.

“Fuck.”

“Apparently you did. The duke’s only son. And his father is not very happy about it. Or you.”

Jaskier threw the bounty with disgusted gesture into the fire that promised the reward of an additional three hundred crowns to whoever would bring the duke his head and ...other very vital parts of his anatomy too.

“Oh come on it wasn’t like I seduced the poor and innocent lad and forced him to do things against his will. Trust me he was very willing and most definitely not innocent when it came to the relationship between two men. You should have seen his personal and very anatomically if little bit exasperated correct, collection of various....paraphernalia. He was as pure as the last winter snow or maybe even years before if you consider that trick he did with his ton...”

“Hmmm.”  
Geralt’s loud half growl half grunt interrupted further descriptions of details of the young’s nobleman multiple oral talents.

“Eh sorry shutting up now. Eh… What are these?”

Jaskier turned red and pointed vaguely in the direction of the two medallions still held in the Witcher’s large palm of his right hand refusing to suddenly meet Geralt’s eyes.

“Talismans. There is some kind of concealing spell attached to these. I couldn’t hear nor smell them until they both got very close. I have to take them to Vesemir. Maybe the enchantment could be replicated for the Witcher’s medallions. Or something else, if it has the same effect at monsters it could prove very useful.”

“Who is Vesemir?”

“He is the head of our guild and probably the eldest Witcher alive. He should be able to do something useful with these.”

“Oh...will I be able to meet him? He must have some very good stories.”

“He is usually staying at Kaer Morhen for most of the year to act as its caretaker and prepare it for the winter.”

“You think he would let me to write a song about him?”

“Maybe if you prove useful at the keep. Or these since it’s because of you we have them.” The Witcher gestured towards the enchanted talismans.

“Glad my almost assassination was at least somewhat profitable then.”  
Replied Jaskier with false cheerfulness as he rubbed the skin around recently scabbed over cuts on his sensitive throat.

Geralt’s eyes went to the bard's injuries and quickly turned away in guilt. This was probably the reason the monster hunter tried his best to change the topic of their conversation to something entirely different the next time he spoke.

“Didn’t know you went after ....royal sausages as well as royal pantries.”

Jaskier grinned from ear to ear mischievously at his traveling companion. And put his hand towards his heart as if mortality wounded.

“Oh, my friend by now you should know that I would go after any kind of feast freely offered. Why should one only taste half of the delicacy’s where so much more is available. Unless, you are against such ...appetites?”

Geralt snorted out loud.

“I have been called many things over the years, a hypocrite was never one of them.”

He shivered at the nonchalant revelation of the older man's tastes and not only from the chill, but the fire also could not seem to vanquish. It gave him curtains hope that at least some of his fantasies were suddenly at least in the realm of vague possibilities. His shudder must have caught the Witcher’s eye and must have been misinterpreted as he appraised Jaskier with concern.

"Are you still feeling cold? You should have warmed up by now.”

The bard shrugged his shoulders trying to conceal the heat in his belly at the memory of the young nobleman sucking his brains out while slowly fucking him deeply with very finely carved large marble cock that made him seem to see stars as it brushed him so deep inside his body as he tried not to screen out loud his Witcher’s name biting his lower lip until it bled. He shrugged again trying to banish the pleasant memory.

"Can’t seem to shake it, for some reason."

Geralt put his muscular arms around him and piled him closer to his large torso. Trying to help, warm him up. It truly seemed to be working. In more ways, than just one.

“Here, lie down with me.” He said gruffly.

Jaskier was surprised but did as the Witcher instructed, tugging the tunic tightly around his otherwise naked body as he let himself to be engulfed in the other man’s embrace. Geralt sat beside him, quickly removing his boots, then pulled his sleeping fur and blanket over both of them. He rolled onto his side and pulled Jaskier’s body against his own. The bard was tucked between the fire and the Witcher, and it was a close bet as to which was generating more heat. Even through shirt and leather trousers, Geralt’s body was like the sun itself, and after shivering for what seemed like hours, he finally began to warm.

"Better?" Geralt asked.

Jaskier nodded, afraid, once again, that his voice would squeak like a terrified mouse if he spoke. He closed his eyes, the warmth seeping into his bones, leaving him somnolent. The arms around him were heavy, and he felt protected, secure. He felt the Witcher shift against him...

The bard's eyes flew open.

It took a conscious effort not to tense his entire body at what was prodding against the small of his back.

Oh, sweet Goddess.

It couldn't be. Except it seemed it was.

But surely, it was merely a physical reaction to the proximity to another warm living body and the lack of any male nor female companionship in Melitele only knows for how long? For Geralt under all those mutations was still just a man with needs like any other that wasn’t interested in him at all, wasn't he?

Or was he?

A near gasp escaped his lips at the sudden thought that he may not be strictly uninterested, and Jaskier simply couldn't prevent it. Behind him, he felt Geralt shift away from him, and he instantly regretted the loss of his presence.

"Jaskier..." the monster hunter said carefully.

The bard turned onto his back, his cornflower blue eyes meeting Geralt’s amber ones. His fear that his eyes would betray his desire towards his friend was outweighed by the need to see what the Witcher’s might reveal to him. And for once, his guard was lowered, and his beautiful cat-like eyes were wide and shockingly vulnerable. There was warmth and caring, and shame and something else. Jaskier’s breath caught again.

"I'm sorry, Jaskier I..." he said, but he offered no further excuses, no additional explanations that his body could not distinguish a man's body from a woman's when it was spooned against him.

“It's fine. I know it's not easy to control. I am a man too after all."  
Jaskier began to speak, but the Witcher shook his head, his eyes dropping to the ground.

“I am truly sorry because I owe you more respect than letting myself behave like an animal. You are always so good to me even when I don’t deserve it. And having you so close like this it feels so good I…" His voice grew quiet towards the end of that confession until it completely disappeared and so did Geralt´s eyes since he refused to meet the bard´s gaze any further.

He lifted Geralt’s chin with his now again warmed up fingers, and their eyes met again. Jaskier’s heart swelled with compassion as he saw the pain, the loneliness, the isolation the monster hunter imposed on himself fully revealed there.

“I could make you feel really good, if you want," he said trying to make clear just how sincere his offer was.

A mixture of relief and surprise flitted across Geralt’s face. It was easy then, for Jaskier to slip his arm around his neck, to draw him into a kiss.

And dear merciful Goddess, he was very skilled at that. It seemed that not all those years were spend, just by hunting monsters but acquiring other useful skills as well. He'd thought the Witcher’s body against his own had felt like a lit forge, but his mouth was even hotter, and he was kissing the bard with the intensity of a man starved for weeks and then suddenly offered a feast.

Jaskier pulled him closer until their bodies were pressed together, and Jaskier felt a slight tremble through the other much larger man frame. The bard broke the kiss and opened his cornflower blue eyes to watch the other man´s reaction to their kisses.

Geralt was leaning on one of his large muscular arms as he gazed down at Jaskier, his eyes were brightly reflecting the firelight and his mouth slightly swollen from their kisses. His gaze dropped away again after a while, and for the first time the bard saw a man slightly unsure of himself, but he said nothing, no words of seduction or reassurance.

He simply waited not wanting to force decisions for the other man.

It turned out he didn't have to wait for long.

When Geralt’s eyes lifted back to Jaskier’s, it was with a determination and a clear decision was reflected in them, and it made Jaskier shudder with months upon months long-repressed want.

As the Witcher’s hot mouth met his again, a hand reached up to shred down the blanket from his shoulders and shrugged off the large black tunic that was his only clothing, removing it with an elegant (and practiced for the effect) twist of his wrist.

Geralt leaned back, studying Jaskier’s now completely naked body unabashedly, his arousal clearly in evidence, tenting his dark leather trousers. Jaskier kept still, determined not to flinch like a virgin and opened his tights widely in invitation revealing the fast-rising hardness of his length.

It felt utterly indecent, his body was naked and exposed like this, not an inch of his skin remaining hidden from the monster hunter´s hungry yellow gaze while the other man remained almost fully clothed sans only his usual armor, staring down at him without shame. Indecent perhaps, but also very arousing, and he knew his face was flushed with warm heat which Geralt must have noticed.

"Doesn’t look, like you are feeling cold anymore.” The Witcher raised a dark eyebrow that contrasted in color with his long silvery locks that were left to dry freely without its usual hair-tie.

Jaskier blinked in surprise.  
The other man almost sounded... playful. He truly wasn’t expecting that. Sweet Melitele, not that he was complaining. Not at all. Quite opposite in fact. It made him consider even more possibilities for tonight's unexpected activities.

"Perhaps just a little but you wouldn’t want me to catch a cold. Would you?" he said, lifting an eyebrow of his own.

"Maybe I could help to keep you warm." The Witcher replied in mockingly serious tone like he was pondering the best way to offer medical help before sliding his hands down the bard’s chest, leaning down to kiss him again.

Jaskier no longer cared to keep this game up after that, hoping only that Geralt´s sword callused hands wasn't leaving anytime soon. The bard’s very dexterous fingers somehow managed to find the buckle on Geralt’s belt and ties of his leather trousers, and if he thought to press his naked body against the Witcher’s sculptured clothed one was arousing, it was surely nothing compared to the feeling of bare chest against bare chest.

He could no longer remain to lie still, and he rolled over, pushing Geralt with him until he was flat on his back, Jaskier climbed on top of him and straddling his hips.

Oh, yes, this was better, he thought as he caught his breath at the sudden exertion and the welcoming sight.

The Witcher was lying underneath him, his hands on the older man's chest, feeling each rapid breath of his normally almost still ribcage since his mutated lungs no longer needed to breathe air often as human ones. Breath was puffing out of those tantalizing lips condensation in the cold air that the bard was no longer capable of registering concentrating on much more pleasant aspects of life. Like kissing that breath out of those moist and inviting lips.

Jaskier leaned forward onto his hands and braced himself, as he took control of their kiss this time around, breaking it only to gasp for more air after stealing all he could and to move his mouth downward, tasting Geralt’s slightly stubbed chin, neck and chest. Licking the various scars older and new alike and comparing their texture with his tongue with the hot unmarred skin that surrounded them.

It was a heady feeling to have seemed such a strong and capable warrior at his mercy under his own body. Not that being almost crushed under the Witcher's massive frame while being pounded into the ground like a cheap whore did not have its merits. But right now he was quite enjoying the feeling of his false power of superiority the monster hunter let him taste.

Jaskier glanced up to see Geralt’s head fall back offering his neck like a willing sacrifice, his kisses swollen and wet lips open glistering with their combined spit in the firelight, hands clenching the blanket that got rolled underneath them as Jaskier’s mouth moved down his chest, his stomach.

The bard slowly reached lower, feeling the Witcher’s hot, rigid outline of his large cock underneath his trousers, and the animalistic growl this action elicited pleased Jaskier greatly.

His confidence increased with each additional shudder, each sound and half bitten gasp that escaped the Witcher's lips against his will. Geralt’s responses to his hands and mouth were quickly becoming an addiction like the sweetest and the richest Redanian wine after only drinking cheap swill of ale for years.

His sense of urgency continued to increase, and he unfastened the bothersome leather trousers that were in his way to the ultimate price he was after and yanked them down with the small clothes under them also and off before sucking the hot leaking flesh underneath them into his mouth.

As the salty and slightly bitter taste hit his tongue he was forced to moan loudly the vibration of it made Geralt buckle and shudder under his sudden onslaught like a startled young colt.

Oh, this was pure heaven bestowed onto him by the Melitele herself, to feel the mighty White Wolf writhing under him helplessly, to hear his loud moans of pleasure as he tasted him and sucked him deep into his mouth. So hot on his tongue, so perfect, he could barely believe this was truly happening.

There was a pulsing thick vein right under the blood flushed head of his Wolf's gorgeous cock that was pulsing with his increasing mutated heartbeat and almost begging him to be teased further.

Jaskier wasn’t one for denying himself any kind of desire so he did just that and was rewarded by a burst of bittersweet liquid leaking into his hungry mouth. It tasted glorious with just hint of something that he wasn’t able to identify. A sweet after taste that made his taste buds tingle like a freshly crushed ginger root in a deliciously brewed thick tea. Jaskier kept alternating between sucking and scraping his teeth lightly over the sensitive place over and over again.

His tongue chased more after the taste as he swirled around the leaking tip before going further down circling the crown and lifting the foreskin around the massive cockhead before wriggling the tip under the loose skin there. He was rewarded by more precome bursting inside his mouths adding to the amount already there that was mixed with the bards saliva and leaking out around his mouthful slicking the rest of the pulsing shaft he was unable so far to fit in. The remaining few inches got the treatment from his lute trained fingers. His Witcher didn’t seem to mind at all by the noises he was constantly making with increasing frequency.

Jaskier felt conflicted between the desire to make it last and the urge to increase the suction, to feel Geralt completely lose control, to make him shake and shudder and come down Jaskier’s throat. He wanted to drink his seed like it was pure ambrosia or to feel that magnificent cock buried deep inside his belly ruining him for all other men. Stretching him to the bring of what was his body capable of taking inside without being torn in half. The latter was quickly winning out though, and he was so involved in his task sucking his Witcher brains out through his hot length that he barely heard his name spoken softly.

“Little Lark ..."

"Mmm..." he answered, without lifting his head letting the sound vibrate around the hot flesh in his mouth and throat.

"Jas ..." He was gently tugged, and he let the rigid cock that was hard as a rock slip slickly from his mouth with a large amount of regret.  
Geralt pulled him up so they were face to face and kissed him so thoroughly the bard forgave him the interruption of his previous entertainment. His hands slid down Jaskier’s flanks, then continued its way caressing his back, then moving purposefully lower again, one hand grasping his cock while the other hand slipped between the cheeks of his ass to gently tease therewith of one pad of a dry fingertip around his opening.

The bard moaned aloud before he broke their kiss to meet the other man's amber eyes that almost looked black, by now from how much his dark pupils were dilated.

Did he want what Jaskier thought he wanted? The finger moved again, and there was no mistaking the silent plea beyond its movement. The bard closed his eyes at the sensation that made his whole body quiver with anticipation, whispering an answer to the unspoken question.

"Yes. In me now, please."

"Always so polite, my little Song Bird. Sing to me now.” Geralt chuckled voice deepened with desire.

Yes, yours. Whenever and however you want me.

The bard wasn’t coherent enough to say those words out loud so he chose to try to show just how eager he was by pushing himself more onto that questioning finger that was asking to be granted entrance to his willing body.

The Witcher dirtily kissed Jaskier once more before rolling him onto his side, releasing the bard from his arms long enough to fumble for something in the nearby saddlebag that usually contained his potion ingredients. He returned triumphantly back holding a bottle of chamomile oil, and the bard sighed with pleasure at the presence of his Witcher pressed against him from behind once more.

One of his large rough hands slipped around Jaskier’s waist to stroke his throbbing cock, while an oil slick finger teased him between his ass cheeks.

Jaskier pressed back wanting that finger deep inside opening him up, and he heard Geralt chuckle before he obliged and surrendered to his demands, gently working the finger inside of him with the help of now warm and slick oil.

He began kissing the back of the bard's neck sucking red marks and biting the skin while avoiding the fresh wounds still there barely scabbed over that surrounded his throat like a necklace made out of pure lust that would announce to the whole world that he was taken, and Jaskier moaned softly in response, slowly becoming overwhelmed by the assault of sensations of slight pain and pleasure.

The finger slipped out and after a while returned with the second one and additional oil that made his insides feel wet and slippery, and Jaskier tried not to push back too much. He loved the feel of his Witcher inside him, couldn't wait any longer to be able to feel more of him than just a single finger.

"Please, please more." He was all but begging between the moans and whines while clutching at Geralt’s sides burying his fingers into the skin there.

There was no knowing chuckle this time nor more teasing, but the hand was removed with one last scissoring motion, replaced moments later by the press of a large and erect cock against his ass that slipped between his tights several times nudging his swollen balls and beyond the root of his throbbing length before focusing on its true target.

Geralt pressed forward slowly, and Jaskier tried not to moan this time in pain as he was entered, because he felt bloody huge, and despite his claims that he was ready for more it has been a while since he had let himself to be fucked and he had never taken anything remotely close to the Witchers size inside himself. It was like being a virgin all over again letting the cock inside him carve the space for itself into his willing but tight body.

The motion continued slowly but surely until the bard gasped as he finally felt the Witcher fully inside him, trying vainly to inhale enough air to keep his head from swimming from the sensation of being split in half.  
Geralt stilled and did not move a single muscle, waiting for Jaskier’s body to adjust to him being inside, and it occurred to the bard that the Witcher was no stranger to fucking other men like this and that he knew precisely what he was doing. The throbbing inside him and the quiver of his protesting inert muscles slowly gave way to just feeling stuffed full with large warm flesh that rubbed against the bungle of the sensitive nerves constantly due to its size. And any remaining pain was quickly forgotten at the feeling of the heat of the man buried as deep inside him as was physically possible.

He exhaled slowly, feeling his body finally surrender fully to the other man and he felt Geralt move just slightly pulling out barely an inch before pushing slowly back inside him. Even that small movement made the pleasure explode beyond Jaskier’s eyes like a magical fireball thrown by a mage.

The bard pushed greedily his hips back towards the man buried deep inside him demanding his Wolf to move.

To claim him further.

And claim he did, slowly pulling out and then back inside again each pulsing thick vein caressing inside walls of the bard's sensitive channel, and Jaskier began to shake again almost vibrating because nothing had ever felt like this. No man or woman or any other being that he had shared his bead before in his life had ever made him feel like this. It almost felt like a religious experience.

"More, harder!" Jaskier gasped, his voice rattling low in his throat as he begged hoarsely from all that moaning and whining shamelessly.

Geralt pulled completely out of him, the emptiness inside him ached and demanded to be filled to the brim again as he was maneuvered from his half-sitting position with his back being supported by part of his rolled-up bedroll that normally served him as an improvised pillow, further down so he was now lying completely on his back. His legs splayed like he was a whore trying to lure a customer to sample free goods and tried to focus his eyes on his new lover.

He looked beautiful and utterly wild, thought Jaskier as he admired the Witcher’s cat-like eyes dark with want only thin ring of amber around the large discs of black remained, his otherwise pale face flushed pink and for once, he was holding nothing back.

Geralt grabbed the undersides of his sweat and oil slickened tights and lifted his hips from the bedroll. He pushed inside Jaskier again, thrusting deep and hard.  
Just like the bard wanted him to, striking that wonderfully sensitive place inside him that almost made him come apart with every single touch.

He did it again, and again, and the Jaskier stopped trying to contain his moans and gasps and gave free rein to his need to express what exactly he was feeling at the very moment he was being pounded mercilessly so deep he would probably be able to taste it inside his mouth.

He pulled Geralt down and kissed him, his hands that previously laid uselessly next to his body now gripped the monster hunter’s neck then his back and his thighs.  
Anywhere, where he was able to reach him. To try to make him behave even wilder and rougher than he had been until now.

He succeeded by nicking his tongue on one of Geralt’s sharp fangs. The taste of a small amount of blood mixed with their combined saliva made the Witchers hips stutter and try to force himself even deeper than before by lifting one of the bard´s legs to his wide shoulder. The position opened him further and the large cock pounding his insides was suddenly in previously untouched places.

Jaskier’s cock lay since Geralt had first entered him completely untouched between their naked bodies, but it didn’t matter to the bard at all. With each thrust the Witcher's washboard abs slickened by their combined sweat rubbed his length and with the combination of being fucked so roughly and thoroughly his pleasure was quickly building because he could feel his approaching orgasm building even now.

Soon it reached its peak and he surrendered himself to the wave after wave of pleasure that rushed through his entire body and continued to do so as he was stimulated further without mercy. He cried out as he came splashing his seed between their belies from his untouched cock making a mess of them both even as his Wolf continued to thrust inside of him smearing it all over their skin with each desperate movement as he was continuously speared.

Geralt’s amber eyes flared as he felt Jaskier tighten around him rhythmically as his internal muscles kept massaging his entire length, and he soon followed, thrusting hard and then stilling deep inside the bard. He kissed Jaskier as he came, the kiss becoming a gasp for air as he shuddered his completion. The bards by now oversensitive cock twitched uselessly at the feeling of being filled with thick hot seed that almost seemed like it was burning him from the inside out. Searing away all the previous lovers from his body’s and mind’s memory forever so from now on he only belonged to his White Wolf who had claimed him as his mate.

For a single moment Jaskier regretted not being a woman because his lover’s seed couldn’t take root inside his belly. He would welcome to be swollen with Geralt’s child growing inside him. It was a foolish idea that only made his heartache for something that could never be so he let it go.

They separated slowly. The Witcher withdraw out his softening length and his spend immediately followed. Running down Jaskier tights from his clenching opening that was unable to close after being stuffed full for so long. The bard tried to clench close to prevent it from escaping but his muscles were too tired out to listen to his commands.

Geralt lowered Jaskier’s legs back down and arranged his pliant body so they were both resting on their backs beside each other with the view of the starry skies above them.

The bard finally reached down to pull discarded blankets around them as he felt his heart slowly return to its normal beat and finally regained at least partial use of his limbs.

He avoided Geralt’s eyes as he did so, trying not to worry that he might have second thoughts and regret what they did tonight in the light of day.

"Little Lark," The Witcher said softly and this time it was his large hand that carefully cradled his chin to turn his face back towards him.

Jaskier felt tears in his eyes expecting to be told that this was an only one-night thing, that tomorrow all of this should be forgotten and returned to what it was before.

“Mmm?" he answered trying to seem too tired to delay the conversation so he could at least spent one night pretending that they could be like this for the rest of their life.  
Geralt turned Jaskier toward himself and looked with his glowing amber eyes into his cornflower blue ones filled with tears.

“Did I... did I hurt you?"

The bard tried not to look too forced as he tried to smile widely.

"No. Always happy to help relieve some tension." He replied cheerfully while his heart was breaking.

His White Wolf frowned and wiped away one of the traitorous tears that escaped from his eyes down his face.

“Jas…. No this was more than that.”

The bard felt his heart start to beat again at those few words that felt like absolution.

“Do you mean…”

“You are mine Little Lark. No more pretty noble sons and daughters from now on. You belong to me and I don’t share. I will tie you to my bed if necessary to keep you all for myself. ”

This time his smile was entirely real and returned as the Witcher wrapped his arms around Jaskier again and touched with his forehead to the bard´s so they shared their breaths.

“You don’t have a bed.” Jaskier all but giggled giddily with happiness.

“Then I will tie you to Roach’s saddle until I have one.”

The images that statement put inside Jaskier’s mind were filthy and had much potential for their future encounters. He most definitely never tried to fuck on a horse before. And if Roach didn’t like the idea maybe they could always buy a stuffed one somewhere?

Hell even getting almost assassinated again might be worth it if this was going to be the result.

With that thought as he drifted off to sleep held securely in Geralt’s arms knowing that whatever came after he, be it on the Path or some kind of grievance of men, his Witcher would keep him safe.

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think, please.


End file.
